by Sean Deville
To the world at large, specifically those who have supported Iran over the last several decades, I urge you to stand aside. America demands vengeance. America demands justice. America demands its right to cleanse the world of those who endanger our existence. Every single life lost in Philadelphia must be paid for in blood.
Stand in our way and you will become our enemy. Support us in this hour, and you will remain our true and loyal friend.
As of today, I have ordered a full air and sea blockade of Iran. Nothing enters and nothing leaves. Any country found to be supporting Iran will face the severest of sanctions. Any country found to be providing military aid, in any form, will be declared an enemy of our country.
To the Iranian people, I say this. You are ruled by tyrants and devils. They have brought your families and your children to the brink of annihilation. Many of you are innocent in this, and I understand that. So, I give you twenty-four hours to rise up and overthrow the mandarins and the cowards who ordered the attack on this country. I give you this time to take your country back from the religious zealots that have already started a war with your neighbours in Saudi Arabia. If you do nothing, if you sit back either through fear or complicity, then prepare to meet your God.
America is coming for you. We will not show mercy. We will not show pity. We will bring down the hammer of God upon your country and accept the hundreds of thousands of deaths that will result in this. Let me be clear, unless the people of Iran overthrow their leaders and bring us the heads of those who ordered this attack, we will reduce Iran to rubble.
For we will strike you back tenfold. You have used nuclear weapons on one of our greatest cities. So be it. Do not be surprised therefore if we return the favour.
19.
August 12th
Slough, UK
Vicky hadn't meant to fall asleep. But even with the caffeine inside her and the agitation that bubbled away within, sleep had snuck up and grabbed her as the sun had begun to rise. It was a moment, a brief instance in time, but it was enough to allow the demon in.
In her mind, she walked through city streets that had been stripped of humanity. Around her, the buildings were crumbling, weeds breaking through the cracked and failing asphalt of the road’s surface. Most of the windows were shattered remnants, any glass that remained sharp daggers ready to cut into unwary flesh.
Despite the devastation, she knew this street. It had once been brimming with life, shoppers, commuters and tourists flooding the pavements in a tsunami of progress and consumption. That was days long past, those scenes never to be repeated.
“This is what he brings,” the companion voice said, the words of the demon that were haunting to her.
“Why?” Vicky asked. She breathed in deeply, the smell of rot filling her lungs. The air down here was stale, the slightest breeze forsaking what had effectively become a tomb for mankind.
“That is what he does. He corrupts and defiles.”
“Who are you talking about?” Vicky knew she would be better to try and ignore the voice, but in this world, the universe of her imagination, she had no choice in the matter.
“The Antichrist, of course. Who else could create this?”
Vicky turned a corner, the ruin of the Eros statue there before her. Piccadilly, the heart of a city that had once been called London. Now it was a forgotten memory, home to rats and scavengers, death and decay.
Any sentient species that existed here could only survive through cannibalising itself.
“There is no stopping this,” the demon insisted. “All you can do is protect the ones you love.”
“I know you lie,” Vicky insisted.
“Not about this. The Fallen lie. They lie to humanity and they lie to those they created in defiance of the one who created them.”
“I don't believe you.” Vicky carried on walking, though she didn't want to. This was no place for her, no future she wanted for her daughter. Above her, the air was filled with smoke and the stench was occasionally assaulted by the aroma of cooking meats. Despite the hunger that threatened her, she knew the source of that smell was no barbecue she dared be invited to.
Should she come under the scrutiny of the cannibals that owned this place, she would likely be the next thing on their menu. This was why she walked quietly, clinging to the shadows and the walls. Every step was carefully placed so as not to disturb the air with the sound of her progress.
“Why am I here?” Vicky begged.
“I show you what is to come. All this is inevitable.”
“I don't want this. I don't want to be here.”
“It is not a fate that befalls you.” As the voice spoke, Vicky passed by an almost intact window that had once been the storefront selling useless and expensive products that mankind no longer produced. It wasn't her in the reflection, but an older Emily. The child she knew was gone, replaced by a dirt-coated and haggard feral thing that stooped as it moved. The eyes that she looked through were wary, devoid of compassion.
“This is Emily's future,” the demon taunted. “She survives it all to become this thing that looks back at you.”
“No,” Vicky insisted.
“I would share with you her memories, but it would break you. The things she has seen. The things that have been done to her. But the worst are the horrors she herself has committed to stay alive. No child should experience that.” Vicky wanted to cry out, but the throat she owned in this dream state refused to comply. Instead she skulked off further, hunting.
My God, she was hunting.
“This is not my Emily,” Vicky said in defiance.
“No?”
“Emily could never become this.” Was that even close to the truth though? If the apocalypse came, what would a child need to do to survive? Humans were resilient, but a lot of that resilience would come at the expense of what made them human.
“Emily survives, but only by sacrificing everything you love about her. Her humour, her innocence, her caring, loving nature. All will be stripped, replaced by this creature.” In the distance, an animal’s cry echoed through the streets, Vicky's lips replying in kind.
Signalling, herding. Emily wasn’t the one in danger here. Emily was the predator, one of several.
“No more,” Vicky begged. What could be worse than seeing your child hurt by the beast? Easy. Seeing your child become the beast.
“Then let me show you how it could be.”
Vicky felt the scene around her melt, the pitted concrete and twisted steel replaced by a city of glass and chrome. The streets were immaculate, the people ordered and regimented. Quiet vehicles hovered above even roads, every metre of this place pristine.
“What is this?”
“Those who serve our true Lord will be rewarded in the new age. They will live free from disease, free from hunger. Whilst the majority of mankind will either die or become no more than Neanderthals, the best will live lives of abundance and prosperity.” Vicky looked up, the blue sky breaking through the towering and gleaming skyscrapers. “I cannot promise this to you, but it can all be Emily's.”
“But what would happen to me?”
“You would live a life of sacrifice, in service to the one who is to come,” the demon answered. “Some of my kind torment those in whose bodies they ride, but that is not my way. Let me in and you will know peace.”
“How can I trust you?” That was the question, wasn't it? This was a demon, and everything inside Vicky told her not to believe its slick and impressive presentation.
“You can't, but what other choice do you have?” Vicky saw Emily then. Fifteen years older maybe, walking tall with an elegance that made Vicky's heart ache with joy. Emily had become a woman of beauty and presence, people stepping aside as she passed, almost treating her with reverence. “Emily could lead a great life, if she is given the chance.”
The future Emily bent down, arms held wide as two children appeared. They were both younger than Emily was now, and they ran into the phantom’s arms as
she embraced them with love.
“Your grandchildren-to-be, Vicky.” Vicky felt the word forming on her lips. It was so easy, so tempting. Such a little word, so easy to say. “Give yourself to me. There is no preventing my owning you. I will come to you methodically, eternally, until you speak the word.”
Vicky felt a tugging on her arm.
“Mum.” Vicky looked to her side, but there was nobody there. “Mum!”
“Don’t you fucking leave me, whore,” the demon suddenly roared. But it was too late once again.
Vicky opened her eyes. She was in her kitchen, her daughter sheepishly beside her. Morning light shone through the window.
“Emily. What…what time is it?” Instead of answering, Emily stepped back, the fear winning.
“You fell asleep. The darkness, it almost took you.” Vicky sat up straight, her head heavy with the memories of what she had experienced. Once more Vicky had almost condemned herself.
“DAMN YOU, CHILD.” The voice shocked both of them, and it boomed out of the surrounding air with no apparent force. James appeared, Emily running to him. He had heard it too, the last vestiges of a Satanic phantom that cursed the world. It had almost created the bridgehead, and as its power waned, it engaged in the anger of the damned.
“I WILL HAVE YOU,” the demon roared as its power began to dissipate. “YOU CANNOT DENY ME.” So loud was the voice that Emily shoved the palms of her hands against her ears. James embraced the child, his arthritic knees complaining in the position he found himself.
The room around them began to vibrate, the refrigerator threatening to topple over as the walls shook. Several plates slipped off the side, shattering on the hard floor.
Silence won over. As the demon retreated to try again another time, Vicky thought she saw its essence around her. Holding a hand up to the air, she detected a shimmering encasing her fingers, as if a cosmic glove had been placed over them. For the first time she could see the evil that wanted to claim her.
“Do you see it, Emily?” Vicky asked, half panicked. Emily had shown such bravery. She had seen the demon trying to take her mother, and despite her own fear had done what needed to be done.
“Yes, but it's weaker now.” Emily detached from her grandfather and ran over to Vicky, her mother collapsing off the chair onto her knees. The two embraced, Emily not complaining despite how hard Vicky hugged her. Even with the evil that lingered in the room, Emily knew this was still her mother. But how long would that remain the case?
“Now do you believe?” was all James could ask. Vicky didn't look at him, her eyes closed to hold back the tears. Once again, she had almost said yes, had very nearly allowed the bastard in. The next time she knew she wouldn't have any defiance left in her.
“Yes,” Vicky finally said. “I don't think I have any choice now.” She knew that she would go back to the church and let a woman called Lilith do what needed doing.
20.
Tehran, Iran
Muhammad Yamani, otherwise known in the Pit as Asmodai, paused before passing through the door. On the other side were the accumulated reporters from the world’s media. This would likely be Asmodai's final act in the possession of this pitiful human form. The mind he had displaced was broken, a whimpering nonsense in the background. When Asmodai finally departed, the man left behind would be good for nothing. A bullet in the brain would be a blessing for Muhammad Yamani, and almost a certainty given what Asmodai was about to do. His mission here was almost complete.
He had enjoyed his time in Tehran. It was such a beautiful city. Such a shame to make it all burn.
Given how he had manipulated things and been instrumental in throwing Iran into a war it could never win, it surprised Asmodai that the few individuals above him in the Iranian hierarchy still trusted the word of the Iranian Minister of Defence. He had been sent out here before the world stage to try and defuse the situation that had spiralled out of control. Whilst not showing weakness, he was here to show compromise and to condemn the nuclear attack on Philadelphia.
The Iranian President and the Iranian supreme religious leader had not been made aware of the nukes that had been smuggled into America. That had been done by a previous regime, the details kept to a select few individuals, Muhammad Yamani being one of them.
Those in power thought they could somehow deny reality.
As Asmodai walked through the door, there was a buzz of anticipation. He took his time walking to the podium, camera flashes firing off, the reporters kept at a safe distance. All the American media had been invited, as well as those covering Europe and the far east. The world would hear what he had to say.
Soldiers were there to hold the press back and protect Asmodai, each man hand selected for their religious zealotry. If only they knew they would be serving evil this day.
There was no surprise when the Iranian Defence Minister started speaking English. Like many in the Iranian administration, he'd had a western education.
“I am here to answer the allegations of the infidel American President,” Asmodai said. He had not written out a speech, for there was no need to. What would follow would be an ideologically driven diatribe that would embarrass most peace-loving Muslims. That was how everyone watching would view it. There would be no questions allowed from the press who were merely here to listen and record. They would take the morsel he was about to feed them, and chew on it hungrily.
“For decades Iran has been under the heel of the American aggressors. From their attempt to steal my country’s vast oil reserves, through the overthrow of Mohammad Mosaddegh and the imposition on Iran of the vile Western puppet Mohammad Reza Pahlavi, Iran has been at war all my life.” The crowd before him stirred at the use of the word war. These monkeys were so easy to play. There were some with formidable minds, a rarity that Asmodai didn't need to trouble himself with. Most of what was left of humanity were easily guided into foolishness and self-destruction.
“Time and again America and her allies have tried to interfere in the affairs of a sovereign country. For years the People’s Republic of Iran has faced sanctions and armed insurrections. We have been patient and tolerant, but no longer can we stand by and let outside forces try and usurp the government of this great and powerful country.” Some of the press seemed to detect the danger that was about to be unleashed. These were not the words to calm a crisis. This speech was meant to inflame tensions and ignite a conflagration that threatened to take the world with it.
“Several decades ago, we purchased several suitcase nuclear devices from the Russian government.” A lie, but one that helped forge the required narrative. The nukes were bought from military officers looking to make a quick profit when the Soviet Union collapsed. “These devices were placed in several prominent American cities as a deterrent. The American administration of the time were warned of this with the advice that, so long as Iran was left alone, these devices would never be activated.” The media representatives had gone deathly silent. They all knew what this meant, and some of them were also realising they were right at ground zero for what America would undoubtedly unleash. “We made the same threat to Britain, who stopped being great decades ago.”
To the world, the Soviet Union had just been directly implicated in the attacks on the world’s last remaining superpower. Also, the people of America and Britain had been advised their governments had known about the nukes. Both were lies, but people rarely wanted the truth anymore.
“America and her pitiful ally didn't listen. They sabotaged our attempts to obtain our own nuclear deterrent. With their Israeli lapdogs, they killed our scientists, disrupted our economy and threatened our allies. Iran can only take so much. To that end, we sent one of our top operatives to America to oversee our first strike against the Great Satan. It is not for the President of America to declare war on us, for we, the people of Iran, declare war on him.”
Some of the journalists attempted to leave the room, only to find their exit blocked by soldiers loyal to the man they did
n't know had a Great King of Hell riding in him. Asmodai smiled inside. This was where the fun really started.
“I speak for our Supreme Leader and call on all Iranians to strike out at the infidels wherever you may find them. Kill them in their homes, on their streets. Bring Allah's holy fire to their schools and their churches. We call for, no we demand, you engage in holy Jihad.” There was clamour at the far end of the room now, more soldiers pouring in, men specifically picked for this moment. Asmodai saw his guards looking back at him. Some were filled with awe, others with uncertainty. The most indoctrinated were still allowed to have doubts.
“Kill the Catholics and the accursed Jews wherever you might find them,” Asmodai shouted. “When the people of Rome start dying in their thousands, ask yourself whose God is true.” Asmodai looked into the camera and winked. He’d dropped a hint as to what other horrors were ravaging the world.
“You seem to be declaring war on the West,” a reporter managed to ask. There was utter shock amongst those present when a soldier stepped forward and clubbed the reporter to the ground with the butt of his rifle.
“I am not here to answer your foul questions. Nor am I here to feed your propaganda. I am here to tell you the truth in the face of Allah’s might. To clarify, it was Iran that set off the nuclear devices in the American city of Philadelphia and the British capital. I regret we failed to destroy New York. America has too long supported our enemies, so it is time for the true soldiers of Allah to rid the world of the American scourge. I have already ordered our militias in Iraq to attack all American forces there. Any ship that enters out territorial waters will be sunk. Any American plane entering our airspace will be shot down. Any American soldier to set foot on our sovereign soil will be killed in the most brutal manner imaginable. Once again the great Persian empire will cast off its shackles and straddle the world.” Asmodai drew in close to the microphones that adorned his lectern. He set his voice low. “And just so you know, there are more nuclear bombs out there. Which city will be next? How many more will be burned alive by atomic fire?”